Wish I'd known all along
by madelgijs
Summary: Hannah comes to Porter for counseling. This time he does his job right.
1. Doing it right

**Chapter 1:**  
 **Cassette 7: Side A (alternate version)**

One... last... try. _Hannah thought._ I'm giving life one more chance. And this time, I'm getting help. I'm asking for help because I cannot do this alone. I tried that.

\- Hannah. Glad you made it. Come in. Sit here.  
Thank you.

 _Porter was the English teacher, but also the guidance counselor for students with last names A through O. Hannah Baker's guidance counselor._

\- Are you comfortable? Do you want some water?  
I'm fine. Thank you.  
\- So Hannah, how can I help you? What would you like to talk about?  
Well, that's... I don't know, really. Just everything, I guess.  
\- That's okay, Hannah. I've got as much time as you need. Whenever you're ready.  
It's just... things. Everything's so hard right now.

 _Her voice was shaking._

I don't know where to begin. I mean, I kind of do. But there's so much and I don't know how to sum it all up.  
\- You don't need to sum it all up. Why don't we begin with how you're feeling today?  
Right now?  
\- Right now.  
Right now I feel lost, I guess. Sort of empty.  
\- Empty how?  
Just empty. Just nothing. I don't care anymore.  
\- About what? Do you want to tell me?  
About anything. School. Myself. The people in my school.  
\- What about your friends?  
You're going to have to define "friends" if you want an answer to that question. Seriously, I need a definition. How do you know what a friend is?  
\- Someone you can turn to when...  
Then I don't have any. That's why I'm here, isn't it? I'm turning to you.  
\- Oh... I'd thought... But, yes. You're here, Hannah. And I'm glad you are.  
You don't know how hard it was to set up this meeting.  
\- My schedule's been fairly open this week.  
Not hard to schedule. Hard to get myself here.  
\- Again, Hannah, I'm glad that you're here. So tell me, when you leave this office, how do you want things to be different for you?  
You mean, how can you help?  
\- Yes.  
I guess I... I don't know. I'm not sure what I'm expecting.  
\- Well, what do you need right now that you're not getting? Let's start there.  
I need it to stop.  
\- You need what to stop?  
I need everything to stop. People. Life.

 _Porter raised an eyebrow._

\- Hannah? You know what you just said!? You said you wanted life to stop. Do you mean your life?

 _Hannah stared at the floor, hands on her face._

\- Is that what you meant to say, Hannah? Those are very serious words, you know.  
I know. They are. I'm sorry. I don't want my life to end. That's why I'm here.  
\- Oh. Hm... So what happened, Hannah? How did you get to this point? I know you can't sum it all up. It's the snowball effect, am I right? It's one thing on top of another. It's too much, isn't it?  
It's too hard.  
\- You're talking about life?

 _Hannah looked up, slowly nodding. Tears were welling in her eyes._

\- Here. Take this. An entire box of tissues just for you. Never been used before.  
Thank you.

 _A faint, but thankful smile appeared on Hannah's face._

\- Okay. I'd really like to get an idea how you came to that point. You mentioned school, Hannah. Has school anything to do with what you're experiencing?

 _Hannah shifted on her stool._

I guess. Yes... You could say so. I don't know how to put it...  
\- Okay. When you think of school, what's the first thing that comes to mind?  
Learning, I guess. I'm kidding.

 _Mr Porter laughed_.

I do learn here, but that's not what school is for me.  
\- I understand. Then what is it for you?  
A place. Just a place filled with people that I'm required to be with.  
\- And that's hard for you?  
At times.  
\- With certain people, or do you mean people in general?  
With certain people. But also... everyone.  
\- Hm.

 _Porter took a pencil and made a few notes on a sheet in front of him on his des_ k.

\- It would be helpful, if you could be a little more specific.  
It's hard because I don't know who's going to... you know... get me next. Or how.

 _Again Porter raised an eyebrow._

\- What do you mean, "get" you?  
Not like a conspiracy or anything. But it feels like I never know when something's going to pop out of the woodwork.  
\- And get you?  
I know, it sounds silly.  
\- No Hannah. Not silly. As I said before, we're here to talk about what brought you here and to find out what should be different, when you leave later. So please, just explain.  
It's hard to explain unless you've heard some of the rumors about me.  
\- I haven't... Well, that's not quite true. I'm a teacher, so of course I do hear student gossip, bits'n pieces of what's told in the halls. But I don't rely on gossip. My opinions about my students are based upon what I'm learning about them when seeing them in class. But I see, these rumors are bothersome to you. Are they contributing to the snowball effect we talked about before?  
See, that's it. Not all of them are rumors. Years ago I was voted... you know, in one of those polls. Well, not really a poll, but someone's stupid idea of a list. A best-of and worst-of thing.

 _Porter slowly nodded, signalizing that he had an idea what Hannah was talking abo_ ut.

And people have been reacting to it ever since.  
\- When was the last time?

 _Hannah pulled another tissue from the box._

Recently at a party. I swear, one of the worst nights of my life.

 _Porter made some more notes then looked up at Hannah._

\- Because of a rumor? Or was there more to it?  
So much more than a rumor. But partly, yes.  
\- Do you want to talk about what happened at this party?  
It wasn't really during the party. It was after.  
\- Okay, Hannah, I understand that. I can imagine how hard it is to open up and talk about something that must have been a truly painful experience for you. I can assure you, that almost everything we talk about here is strictly confidential. Concerning this incident you mentioned, are we talking about a boy?  
Yes.

 _Porter exhaled deeply._

\- Hannah, I think I know what you're hinting at, that happened at the party... Just to avoid misunderstandings. As I said before, most things between us are confidential, but you know, if something that could be considered illegal happened, I'll have to report.

 _Hannah looked at Porter, panic in her eyes._

You mean rape? I'm... no, I don't want to press charges. There were circumstances. I don't want a confrontation. I want things, everything to stop. I want things to be over. I think I'm done here. I think I'd better get on with it. Thank you Mr. Porter

 _Hannah slowly rose from her stool, turning to the door. After only a hint of hesitation, Porter, too, stood up moving towards the door._

\- Hannah, please sit down again.

 _His voice was firm but gentle._

\- There are options. And together we'll find something to solve your problems. But before we come to that, I'll have to ask you something frankly, bluntly.

 _Porter sat down again and took a deep breath while looking at the notes in front of him._

\- Hannah, after all I've heard from you in the last couple of minutes... Have you ever considered suicide?

 _Hannah looked at Porter, eyes wide open. Then, ever so slowly, she let her head drop on her hands. For a short while nothing was to hear beyond Hannah's silent sobs._

\- Hannah, after all these hints you dropped, knowingly or unknowingly, I had to ask this question. I know, thinking, let alone talking about this is excruciating painful. But right now, there's no way around that. Just take your time to answer.

 _Seconds passed with none of the two saying anything. Finally Hannah, her eyes red and swollen from tears, looked Porter straight into the eyes._

Yes. You're right I thought about ending my life.

 _Hannah paused again. Then sighed._

All these things that happened in the last years, they built up to this huge burden that rested on my shoulders. I felt like I lost control of my life, that there's none there helping me, friends or family, and that I'd never get rid of all of this again. Thinking about ending my life gave me the prospect of being in charge again - and to finally find peace. And even if I can't tell why, finally having said this aloud, it's relieving.  
\- Yes, Hannah. I think it's good that you found the courage to tell me. In your doing so we got to the core of things. We can stop the snowball. And then we can move on, step by step, take this burden from your shoulders piece by piece. I do have some ideas about what should happen next. Neither me nor you can solve these problems alone, we'll have to bring in some professional help to make the changes you're longing for. Before I continue, does this sound to you like the way on which we should proceed?

 _For a moment Hannah didn't move, than she cautiously nodded her head. A shimmer of hope in her eyes._

Yes, I guess it does.  
\- Great. I'll explain to you what is going to happen next. I'll call your parents right now, they can't be left out. I'll also call Stanford University's Division of CAP. I think you and your parents should present your case to them to get you the best help possible. The rest, we can talk about when your parents are here. Does this sound okay for you?

 _Hannah only nodded, she had given herself in Porter's hands the moment she had told him about her plan. Now it was for him to decide where to go and how to go on._

Mr Porter?

 _Hannah rose from her stool again._

I could really use some fresh air.  
\- I'm sorry Hannah, I can't allow you to leave until your parents are here.  
Please. I wouldn't do anything stupid. I just can't sit here anymore, especially while you're doing those phone calls. I need some fresh air to breathe.  
\- Okay. Give me a minute, I think I do have an idea, a solution for this problem.

 _Porter took his phone and dialed a number._

\- Hi Mrs Humphreys. Would you please make an announcement. I need two students to immediately report to my office...

 **[to be continued]**

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

1\. Stanford University's Division of CAP = Division of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry

2\. The idea for this chapter came up, when I read the book in my class. Both my students and me were really bothered by how Porter handled his conversation with Hannah. So I tried to envision a different outcome that might have happened if Porter hadn't made the mistakes he made. This means, this story is mostly based on the novel, but it should fit with the show, too.  
I do have some (really basic) training in counseling myself and tried to make use of this when writing this alternate version. It isn't perfect, especially the last part of the conversation, when Porter finally confirms his suspicion concerning Hannah's plans would probably take more time and talking in real life (like trying to find out how concrete Hannah's plans are, if preparations already have beeen made and so forth...). But, this is after all fiction.  
When commenting, reviewing or criticizing my short story, please bear in mind, that English isn't my native language. So while I really tried to do my best and read it several times to correct errors, grammar and phraseology are certainly not perfect  
I do have some rough sketches for how things with Hannah might proceed from that point. So there'll be another chapter sooner or later.

3\. Formatting: The way I formated the chapter reflects the formatting of the "Anniversary Edition" of the novel. There dialogues are set in _Italic_ with Porter's part being marked with hyphens. Clay's comments are set in plain. As I left out Clay's comments (with Porter acting different Hannah probably wouldn't have prepared tape 13 even so she made the recording during the conversation...), I needed a narrator to convey some of the reactions and emotions of Hannah and Porter. As I don't like long paragraphs in italics, the dialogues got the plain font and the narrator's comments got the italics. This is probably a more drama-like approach to formatting...


	2. A second chance

**Chapter 2: A second chance**

"So would you please call for Tony Padilla and Clay Jensen, Mrs Humphreys? Thank you." Porter hang up his phone and looked at Hannah, who stood there, mouth agape.

"Why those two?"

"Well, Hannah, I told you, I cannot allow you to be alone right now when I'm going to make a few more phone calls to make sure you're taken care of in the best possible way. These two guys seem to me quite reliable. And I'd say one could even call them your friends. So I think they can look after you, when you're going outside to get some fresh air and wait for your parents."

Hannah shook her head. "I don't have any friends. I told you that before", she whispered. "Clay Jensen hates me... Why should he want to look after someone like me...?"

Porter vigorously shook his had. "Hannah, I don't want to argue with you right now. I just ask you to trust my experience as a teacher and counselor. I told you before, I don't rely on gossip or what other students say but I trust my own observations and my personal assessment from what I see during class or in the halls. I've seen you, I've seen Clay. He doesn't care much about student's chitchat, he's good and kind and decent I'd say. And from the times I've seen you two together, I'd even guess, that he genuinely cares for you even if it's maybe not that obvious."

Hannah bit her lips, she still wasn't convinced. IF Porter was right, it would be even more difficult to explain to Clay and Tony what this 'babysitting' was all about. But in lack of a better alternative - Jessica? - she decided not to reinforce the argument.

As if reading her thoughts, Porter turned to Hannah. "Don't worry about what those two might be thinking. Leave the explanation to me, you don't have to tell them anything."

The same moment somebody knocked at the door to Porter's office. "Come in." Guessing that this were the two students he had called for, Porter didn't even bother to ask who it was. During his consultation-hour there normally weren't any unannounced visits at his office.

Clay stepped in, tentatively, followed by Tony. "You needed us to..." Clay stopped in mid-sentence, a puzzled look on his face when he saw Hannah, eyes still red and puffed from crying. What the heck was going on here? If Hannah was here, what was the whole point of calling him - and Tony - to Porter's office?

Tony just stood there, twirling his sunglasses in his hand, seemingly unaffected by the scenery like a spectator observing a drama unfolding on stage.

Feeling the tension rise, as Hannah, Clay and Tony stared at each other, not knowing what to say and how to deal with the situation, Porter took issues in his hands. "Clay, Tony, as you might see, Hannah isn't feeling well, she needs to see a doctor. There's not much time for wordy explanations. I'd like to ask you two to accompany her outside so she can catch some fresh air until her parents arrive to take care of her. I myself have to make a few more phone calls and will meet you in front of the main entrance. Hannah isn't supposed to be alone in her condition, so please make sure that you stay around. I trust you in this matter."

Clay and Tony exchanged confused looks. Porter had been quite vague to say the least and Clay had the faint suspicion that he had done this on purpose. Something that both of them shouldn't know must have happened. He looked in Hannah's direction trying to read her expression or get some kind of a hint from her, but to no avail. The moment he turned to her, Hannah had went for her backpack, thus deliberately avoiding him. Clay shrugged. Okay. Maybe outside, with no Porter around, Hannah would be more willing to give them a clue why Poster needed two guys to look after her, who in his opinion was more then up to take care of herself in almost any circumstance.

Tony decided that it was time to move, before the situation became even more awkward. "Okay then, let's go and catch some fresh air."

Thankful for Tony's intervention Hannah took the lead, the two boys falling in behind her, while Porter sat down again taking this phone to make the necessary calls.

As soon as they had passed the glass doors of the main entrance, Tony saw his chance to maybe get some explanations from Hannah for all this secretiveness. Trying to appear unruffled he asked: "So, Hannah, what's up? What was Porter talking about back inside?"

Hannah sighed and shook her head. She silently hoped that Tony would see her reluctance and accept the fact, that she was in no mood to discuss what she and Porter had been talking about.

Tony waited, trying to read Hannah's actions, then shrugged. "Okay. Your business", he mumbled. Hannah gave him a weak, but thankful smile.

Oblivious to the silent exchange between the two Clay still hoped to hear some sort of an answer. He turned to Hannah, looking her straight into the eyes, but before he even had the chance to say anything he got totally jumped by Hannah's reaction. "Don't you give me that look, Clay. This whole situation is a mess... MY LIFE is a total mess. I know you would like to know what's going on and maybe I do owe you an explanation. But I can't tell you. Not now, not yet. I haven't even sorted out things for myself so how in the world should I be able to tell you anything...?" Hannah was on the verge of tears.

Clay was absolutely aghast. For a brief moment, when he had looked into Hannah's eyes, he had gotten a glimpse of what's been going on on her inside. What he had seen, a soul tortured beyond his imaginations, left him shocked and ashamed. He didn't have the slightest idea about the weight of the burden that seemed to rest upon her. And he had no idea, where all of this came from, but he was sure that some really bad things must have happened to her. "I... I... Hannah... I didn't mean to..." At a loss of words he didn't know what to say to apologize for his lack of tact.

"It's all right. Leave it at that. I'd really appreciate if you two could just wait here with me for my parents to arrive." She pointed at a bench at the side of the pathway that led to the parking lot. "I'm glad about your company, but I don't want to talk right now." And she totally meant what she had said. What were Porter's words? A friend is someone you can turn to... Sitting here, the two of them sitting at either side of her, silent but at the ready to take care of her needs, she felt her heart making a little jump. She felt that she could rely on both of them, Tony and especially Clay. Maybe she actually had still friends, and maybe... maybe they saw her as a friend, too.

Hannah's parents came up the sidewalk from the parking lot in front of the main building. Hand in hand, Mr Baker a grave and concerned look on his face while Mrs Baker visibly was trying to fight back her tears. Whatever exactly Mr Porter had told them on the phone, the concerns fort their daughter was plainly written on their faces.

"Hannah, darling..." Mrs Baker's voice began to falter, helpless as to what to say in this moment, searching for the right words to show their sincere sorrows and deep affection.

An awkward silence fell, as everybody was unsure what to do or to say. Hannah just sat there, a blank stare going nowhere on her face. Clay and Tony too remained silent, unsure whether it was up to them to just leave or wait for things to come. Clay fumbled with the straps of his bike helmet while Tony gave his sunglasses a closer inspection - in doing this avoiding the quizzical looks of Hannah's parents when they saw the two boys sitting at either side of their daughter.

Just then Mr Porter came down from the main entrance and with a few brisk strides he got to the Bakers. "Mrs Baker, Mr Baker, I'm glad you made it possible to come here so quickly. As I already outlined on the phone, it's probably best if you bring Hannah directly to Stanford University's Division of CAP. Just to make sure, I've written down the name of your contact partner at the clinic. I gave him a quick call right before you came and he knows you'll be coming within the next hours."

Tony and Clay exchanged puzzled looks. What the heck was Porter talking about? He got them involved when he called them up to look after Hannah. Why couldn't he say things in a way everybody understood? Hannah had only made vague insinuations concerning her condition. Driving all the way to Stanford for a facility to take care of Hannah, Clay was sure, meant she was in far more and deeper troubles than she had been willing to admit. Whatever had happened, had made her go to Porter for counseling, it must have been something beyond his imaginations. What that could be, he didn't have the slightest idea.

When Mr Baker addressed Porter, Clay snapped out of his brooding. "Mr Porter, thank you very much that you took action so swift and judiciously. If it weren't for you..." Unable to say the inconceivable and unthinkable he let his voice drop. If things had gone only a little bit different, if Porter didn't have listened to the subtle undertones of what Hannah had told him and drawn the right conclusions, they might have lost their daughter forever. Clay saw as tears slowly welled from Mr Baker's eyes which he furtively tried to wipe away with the sleeve of his jacket, fighting to keep his countenance. He cleared his throat. "Hannah, darling, I think it's time to go."

Hannah had only shortly glanced at her parents when they arrived, then, while they were talking to Porter, she had set there had down and lost in thoughts again. Now she rose to follow her parents.

After a last nod to her parents Porter addressed Hannah. "I'm glad that you have come to me and that we had the chance to talk openly. I wish you all the best. We will, of course, keep a place free for you in class till your return."

"Thank you, Mr Porter, that you took the time to really listen to me. I..." Hannah hesitated, not knowing how to continue as all the emotions surfaced again her conversation with Porter had brought up. Her hands began to tremble an tears appeared in her eyes. Hannah bit her lips.

"It's alright Hannah. It's my job and I did it readily." This being said he gave her a last assuring smile, then he turned and walked back to the main entrance.

With a facial expression hard to read Tony had watched the whole scenery. Now he rose from the bench and walked up to Hannah. "Time to say good bye, Ms Baker. You know, one step at a time... Be back soon!" An ever so slight quiver in his voice betraying his seemingly untouched composure.

The hint of a smile brightened Hannah's face. "Sure, Tony."

Clay, his bike helmet in his hands, still sat on the bench and examined his shoelaces as if something very important could be found there. Now it was his turn to see off Hannah and he had no idea what to say. He got up from the bench and made a few unassertive steps towards Hannah. "Hannah..."

"Yeah?"

"Take care...", he muttered. For an instance he looked straight into her deep blue eyes. Hannah looked back, a trace of hope and eagerness in her face. Clay shifted on his feet. So many thoughts twirled through his head seeing the one girl that meant so much to him leaving. Would she return, and when? And what then, how could things proceed after all that had happened? What role would he play in all of this? And, what mattered the most, what could be said in a moment like this? The seconds passed as he tried to find the words to say. He let his had drop.

"Darling, we really have to go." Mrs Baker gently took Hannah by the arm. Hannah turned around, slowly she and her parents walked down the pathway towards the parking lot, where Mr Baker had parked the car.

"Take care? That's all?" Tony looked at Clay, bewildered.

"What else could I have said?" replied Clay, abashed. "Did you see her eyes? This look that told more than words could ever express about how deep her pain and fears are? About how she really feels? I saw her at school, daily, I saw her at the Crestmont during work - and I didn't notice anything. How could I've been so blind? I didn't do anything for her at that time, I didn't help her, when she seemingly needed a friend so badly. So tell me, what could I've said right now? After all the chances that I've missed...?"

Hannah turned her head one last time, unwittingly tugging a string of curls behind her ear, looking at Tony and Clay who still stood at the bench close to the main entrance.

Tony huffed. "Man, we both know, that there is actually something you could have said. I know. And YOU should. Whenever I've seen you two together, I knew that there's something that should be said. For the sake of both of you. If you, for once, wouldn't be so Clay-like! Always doing what you think you're supposed to do. Always trying to avoid conflicts. For once, do what you really want to, listen to yourself, to your heart!"

Embarrassed Clay looked to the ground. If you fear doing or saying the wrong thing, wouldn't it better to say nothing at all?

Tony smacked Clay on the head. "Move! Get out of your comfort-zone!"

Clay looked up again. Hannah and her parents almost had reached the car. He dropped his helmet and turned around. He darted down the sidewalk and broke into a run. "HANNAH!"

Mr Baker opened the car doors. Hannah got into the car, while her mom sat down on the passenger seat.

"HANNAH!" All out of breath Clay reached the car, only seconds before the doors got closed.

"Hannah, please.." Clay sank to his knees to look Hannah into her eyes. "I'm so sorry, I've been such an asshole."

Hannah looked up and their eyes met. Again Clay saw those wonderful blue eyes, still shaded by so much pain an sorrow. He felt a lump in his throat, once more this thoughts began to twirl in his head. But no! Not this time! This time he'd finally say what should have been said long ago. "Hannah, I can't undo what has happened. I can't reclaim the chances I've missed so many times. But before you leave I want to let you know, how much you mean to me. Knowing you're in it makes my life complete. I don't want you to get hurt, not now, not ever. If you want me to, I'll be there for you. And if you ever need it, I'm going to listen..."

A shimmer appeared in Hannah's eyes and for a moment Clay could have sworn that a hint of a blush had been on her face.

"Clay. Helmet. I'm glad you care. Thank you..."

Mr Baker started the engine and Hannah closed the door. Through the window she could see Clay standing at the curb running his fingers through his hair, a sheepish grin on his face. As the car turned around the corner Hannah looked back one last time. Clay was still standing at the same spot. Life, Hannah decided, deserved a second chance.

* * *

 **Notes:**  
1\. Stanford University's Division of CAP = Division of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry  
2\. I know it's perfectly unrealistic for a teacher to leave a possibly suicidal girl alone with two guys. But, this is fiction. And I needed the plot to develop in a way that made it possible to bring in Clay and Tony. I wanted both, Hannah and Clay, to learn a small lesson. Hannah about friends, that she thought she didn't have, and Clay about getting out of his comfort-zone, so that he for once speaks out. Even so the mere fact that Hannah survives could be counted as a happy end, I also wanted to create an end that hints at what the future might have in store for the main characters.  
3\. There won't be any sequel. I never intended to write a full-blown story but just as much as I saw necessary to point out the changes the alternative outcome of Porter's counseling brought up. But if anyone wants to continue from here - feel free to do so. I don't mind.

 **update (2017/07/12): Well, maybe there'll be another chapter. At least an idea came up that might materialize into another chapter at some point. But be patient, it might take some time...**


	3. A new beginning

**Chapter 3: A new beginning**

Days had passed and turned into a week. Clay went through his daily routine in a dreamlike state. Of course he had to go to school, but most of the time it took only a brief look at Hannah's empty chair for his mind to start wandering. Where was Hannah now? How was she doing? Was she getting better? Would she ever come back?

Not a single day passed without his teachers catching home off guard and unprepared, not having the slightest idea what the lesson actually was about. Some gave him sympathetic looks, others reminded him that he had to take care of his marks. Clay didn't care...

Finally Clay decided, that he had to do something. He couldn't stand the fact any longer that he didn't have any news on Hannah except for the wild rumors that were spread at school - and Clay had long since given a shit when it came to certain people's gossip. But what could he do? The only ones that could answer his questions for certain were Hannah's parents. But how should he approach them, what should he ask? The didn't even really know him...

Out of pure restlessness Clay grabbed his helmet and went for the door. "Mom, I'll take a ride with the bike. I'll be home for dinner. Bye!"

With no definite route in mind he biked through town. Maybe the physical exertion would help to clear his mind or at least to come up with an idea what to do. Lost in his thoughts about what had happened, he found himself taking the road to Hannah's home. Maybe his subconsciousness had taken over and made the decision he himself had been too afraid to make. He stopped and stared at the front door. Only a few steps and he could ring the bell and maybe get all the answers he needed. Rooted to the spot he tried to make up his mind.

Andy Baker was sipping his coffee, when a guy with a bike helmet right in front of his door caught his attention. He just stood there, looking straight at the door and made no attempt to move.

"Olivia, this guy out there", standing at the window he pointed at the street, "isn't he the one that was with Mr Porter when we had to fetch Hannah at school?"

Olivia took a moment to look Clay over, then nodded. "You know, I think he's got a whole lot of questions and is looking for answers", Olivia turned to her husband. "You remember his good-bye to Hannah back then at the car? There's something special about him and Hannah, I guess. Maybe you should go out and talk to him. Man to man."

Andy Baker sighed. "If you think so."

"Yeah, I think so. Take a look at his face - he seems troubled and worried. And maybe having someone from her peers Hannah can turn to when she comes back, isn't such a bad idea after all. He might be just the right one."

Andy Baker sighed again, then went for the door.

When the front door opened, Clay was startled. Staring at the door suddenly felt awkward. Just when he sat a foot on the pedals again, he heard someone calling for him. "Hey. Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Clay turned around and saw Hannah's dad coming down to the street. "I think we've met briefly. You were at the school when..."

Clay nodded. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude... I'm Clay Jensen, a friend of Hannah's."

"I'm Andy Baker, Hannah's father, but I guess you know that." For a short moment both of them went silent. "Well, if you're here, why don't you come up and take a seat on the front porch with me. You probably do have a whole bunch of questions."

Clay looked at his feet. "Umh, yes, I do. But I didn't mean to..."

"It's okay." The two of them went up to the porch and sat down. After a moment of silence Mr Baker began. "You know, not many people showed up in recent times asking for Hannah and how she's doing. So the fact that you're here tells me, that you actually care for her. I can't answer all of the questions you might have, but maybe at least some of 'em." Clay nodded slowly. "Hannah isn't home yet. She had a breakdown and needs psychological treatment. I don't want to go into details here. It will take time to stabilize her, before she may return home. Concerning the future, returning to school and so on, we can't yet tell and haven't decided, if or when this is going to happen. If you want to, I can tell her that you've been here - and, we could call you up when she's back home and ready to see some of her friends again. That's the best I have to offer right now."

Clay took a deep breath and nodded. "Sounds good to me. Thank you for taking the time and telling me, Mr Baker."

So again there was nothing for Clay to do but wait. He felt like a prisoner waiting for his discharge, counting every single day.

Then finally the long awaited call came. "This is Andy Baker, Hannah's father. You remember, I've promised you to call when Hannah would be home and ready to receive visits again. If you want to, you can come up, not for too long, but I think she actually might like some company." Of course Clay remembered, how could he forget? Within a minute he was on his bike, the helmet dangling lopsided on his head.

His first visit was as brief as Hannah's dad had indicated and he could almost feel the ever vigilant eyes of the Bakers. So they sat there on the front porch, side by side. Hannah pale and silent and Clay hands trembling and like so often searching for the right words to say - "I'm glad you're back home and it's good to see you again..."

A smile flashed on Hannah's face. "It's good to see you, too. I'm not yet ready for much talking. So if it's okay for you, can we just sit here in the sun for a while?"

Clay grinned an nodded. And so they just sat there, enjoying each other's closeness.

Back home, after Mr Baker had made it clear, that Hannah needed to rest again, Clay sat on his bed with mixed feelings. How long had he been waiting for this moment. And on the one hand it had felt so good to see Hannah again, but on the other hand he had felt so helpless, knowing that whatever troubles Hannah had been going through, it wasn't over yet. And he wanted to help, but didn't know how. He racked his brain trying to come up with an idea, what he could do or bring for his next visit to add his share to Hannah's getting better. Hannah liked poetry, he knew, but he was far from being a poet and whatever he could come up with, it wouldn't fit the situation. But if not a poem of his own, maybe... He decided that he would visit that small book-shop downtown, perhaps the bookseller could help him finding something appropriate.

Dripping from the rain Clay stood in front of the Baker's door. He had come there straight after school and a quick visit to the book-shop.

Olivia Baker opened the door, smiling when she saw Clay. "Hi Clay. We half expected that it was you... Come on in. Hannah's in the living room. You can leave your jacket with me."

When he entered the living room, Clay found Hannah on the sofa, a book on her lap. "Hi Hannah." Clay stood there, turning the book in his hands. Why in all the world did this awkwardness always come like out of nowhere? He saw and felt Hannah looking at him and heard the Bakers just around the door in the kitchen.

Hannah turned to Clay. "Why don't you sit down with me? You brought a book?"

A sheepish grin on his face Clay nodded. "Umh, yeah. I now you do like poetry. But actually... it's not poetry... but it's a very poetic story... so, umh, if you want me to, I can read it to you..."

Hannah smiled. "It's been a very long time since somebody read a book to me. Probably my mom, back when I was a small child. But I like the idea. It's cute."

Clay could feel his face turning red. He took a deep breath and, mustering his courage, began:

 _"It was a late afternoon and one could feel the caress of a soft breeze upon one's hair. There was a sense of foreboding in the air._  
 _At times like this people yearned for tales and they asked wise old Rhaman to tell one of his wonderful stories. The sage smiled. He took a moment to think, then he said: 'We will meet at the stone palm, when the campfires are lit.'_

 _'Stone palm? What do you mean?' they called._

 _'Look for it... Look for it. You cannot miss it!' And he walked away._

 _Before night fell they had found the tree. Next to the many palms at the beach, that in their slender and elegant beauty seemed like women beckoning, this one stood apart. But its mighty, dark green fans ever so lightly touched the other trees._  
 _It was a strange palm tree! It was stout with a mighty stem and broad fan leaves, that moved with visible restraint quite unlike the mirth that made the other palms appear so feminine._ _But the most remarkable about this palm was its treetop! The tree with its fan leaves tilted toward its center._

 _'Look closely', the old teller said who sat in the middle of its audience, 'watch out for the next gust of wind.'_

 _And then they saw it._ _As the breeze blew apart the fans, they saw it: in the heart of the palm tree, where otherwise the light green sprouts edged towards the sun, there rested a heavy reddish stone, a stone like countless others that lay at the beach._

 _Rahman didn't wait for questions. With a wide gesture of his arms he indicated his audience to sit down in a circle. A fire was lit. The night fell quickly and darkness covered everything like a soft blanket._

 _The gleam of the campfire reached the trunk of the mighty palm and painted bizarre signs on its bark: Whenever a bright flame flickered, the crown of the sweeping tree could be seen._

 _'Shall I tell you how this large stone got up there?' Rahman began his tale. 'Well, this happened many, many years ago when this mighty palm was but a young sprig. Back then there were no homes around here and there was no well, either. Just a few palm tress were at the beach. These trees and and the palmetto could do with the nourishment that the sandy soil and the moisture that the sky gave to them._

 _The little palm tree loved the sound of the sea and the music of the waves. It loved the soft breezes of the afternoon and the sudden fall of darkness, the cool and shadowless nights. And it loved the moon whose light - in a clear night - painted on the sea harsh silhouettes and long stripes, which gave a notion of endlessness._  
 _The young tree knew the desert only a few meters behind it. But it had no concept of it, did not know what this meant: waterless and empty. It was healthy and happy palm._  
 _Until the day when the man came._

 _He came from the desert. He had wandered about for days and had lost all his belongings, he almost had lost his sanity to thirst and heat. His hands were sore from his futile attempts to dig for water and his whole body was filled with boundless pain. Now this man stood at the shore of the sea, gazing at its wide, endless and salty water._  
 _The man threw his parched body into the water, his chapped lips and dry tongue burnt from thirst, but the salty water couldn't quench it. Raging anger welled in the man. 'I have a right for water', he screamed. 'I want to live because I have the right to live!'_

 _He took a large stone. His anger gave him strength his parched body almost couldn't summon. And he began to scream. He screamed against the immensity of the sea, screamed against the ever burning sun, he screamed against the desert and at the inaccessible crowns of the palm trees. Menacingly he lifted the stone. His arms trembled and it seemed as if all his strength was finally lost. Right then, between all the debris and sand, he saw the small palm tree, freshly green and full of hope for every new day._

 _'Why do you live?', the man yelled. 'Why do you find nourishment and water while I have to die of thirst? Why are you young and beautiful? Why do you have everything and I nothing? You shall not live!'_

 _With all the strength he had left he smashed the stone in the middle of the palm tree's heart. It crunched, crumpled and cracked. It seemed as if the these sounds were multiplied into the endlessness of the desert and the sea. And then there was silence, a horrible silence!_

\- From the corner of his eyes Clay could see a shiver going through Hannah's body. -

 _The man collapsed by the small palm tree. Two days later he was found by some cameleers. People report that he was saved._

 _None of the drivers cared for the small, shattered sapling. It was almost buried beneath the burden of the stone, its death seemed inevitable. Its bright green leaves were broken off and the withered fast in the blazing light of the sun. Its soft heart had been squashed and the big stone weighed so heavy on the fragile stem, so that it seemed as if it would snap in the lightest wisp of wind._

\- Pausing for a moment, Clay could see Hannah's hand clenched to fists. He continued. -

 _But the man could not kill the small palm tree. He could hurt it, but he could not kill it._

 _When the young tree heard the cracking of its branches and shoots, when it felt the burning pain that became a blurring mass of pain and pain again, something else happened. The small tree felt something totally different, too, something, that had no connection to all hurt and pain - a first wave of strength. And this wave became bigger, it seemed to fall into a rhythm with its waves of pain and in time these waves became longer an longer, until the sapling's strength became bigger than its pain. The young tree tried to shake off the stone. It pleaded the wind to help it. But there was no answer and no help. The stone still lay in the heart of the palm tree and it did not stir._

 _'Surrender', the small palm tree said to itself, 'the stone is too heavy. It's your fate, to die this young. Resign yourself! Let go!'_

 _But there was another voice, and this voice said: 'No, it isn't too heavy. You just have to try, you have to do it!'_

 _'How?', the young tree asked, 'How shall I do this? The wind cannot help me. I'm alone in my weakness. I cannot shake off the stone.'_

 _'You don't have to shake it off', the voice said again, 'you have to accept the burden of the stone. Then you will witness how your strength grows.'_

 _And in all its distress the small palm tree accepted its burden and wasted no more of its strength in its efforts to shake off the stone. It took the stone into the middle of its crown. Its roots became longer and stronger and clung to the ground, as with twice the burden the small tree needed twice the footing._

 _Then came the day, when the roots of the palm tree dug so deep, that they reached a water vein. Water welled to the surface and this spring made this place an oasis of delight and prosperity._

 _Now, when the tree had secure footing and lasting nourishment, it began to grow taller. Sturdy and stout fans it built around the stone. It almost seemed as if it was protecting the stone._

 _The palm tree's stem grew more and more in size and even if all the other palm trees around it were more charming and graceful, the palm tree the people had begun to call the Stone Palm was by far the mightiest of them by far. It had been challenged by its burden and it had accepted the fight against its timidity. And it had finally won this fight. It had uncovered a well that has since then quenched the thirst of many a people. And, what certainly was most important, the palm tree had accepted its burden and had lifted it up high. The stone is still there in the palm tree's heart, but it had moved to place, where it had become bearable. Only the outward burden seems unbearable to us. If it's accepted, then it becomes a part of us.'_

\- Silent tears rand down Hannah's face. -

 _Rahman, the story teller, laid both his hands on the palm tree's trunk. The fires was almost extinguished and one after the other, his audience left the place."_

Clay closed the book. He sat there and didn't know what to say or do next. He had put all his emotions and feelings for Hannah into this story and his reading. And he could see and feel the impact it had on her. Had he done the right thing? Or would she yell at him to leave, like she had done back then at the party, in a moment when he had felt so close to her as he had never done before?

In the kitchen, Olivia and Andy Baker looked at each other. When Clay had begun reading to Hannah, both of them couldn't help but listen, intrigued by the intensity with which Clay told the story.

Olivia Baker, a single tear rolling down her cheek, had taken her husbands hands and now she silently motioned him to leave the door frame. They felt like intruders into this very intimate moment Hannah shared with her friend. "We should give them some privacy", she whispered to her husband who nodded in agreement.  
"This was such a wonderful story. Seeing our darling in this palm tree... Maybe she'll really get through all of this and might even grow as a person in doing so. Where did this guy even get this story? He didn't seem very talkative to me so far. But he seems to have a deeper understanding of our little Hannah... I think, this one's a keeper."

Andy Baker just smiled. Whatever helped his daughter to get better and his family to go back to a kind of normal, it was fine with him.

Meanwhile Hannah had gulped down the lump in her throat and fought to get back her composure. The story Clay had read to her had moved her, both because she clearly saw it's meaning and how it referred to her own situation and because he had just done the right thing at the right moment. "Would you mind staying a little bit longer?", she asked Clay. "I don't feel much like talking right now, but it's good to just have you by my side..."

Clay blushed and grinned. "Whatever you need, it's fine with me."

Hannah moved on the sofa and laid her head on his lap. She could feel him breathing, the slow rise and fall of his chest, and it gave her a sense of comfort she had missed so much. Ever so gently and with hands trembling Clay began to stroke her head, his hands trailing through her dark locks.

When Hannah sighed and stirred, he abruptly withdrew his hand. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"Oh, shut up", Hannah interrupted. "Would you for once stop always apologizing for what you're doing? There's no need for that. I know what I did to you back at the party. And I can assure you, it wasn't you. It was me and all the things that happened to me. The demons that haunted me overwhelmed me... Part of me wanted you to go, another part of me wanted you to come back and stay... Now you have come back! And so right now I'm feeling save and secure, with you around I'm better than I've been for a long time..." Her voice trailed off. "The story you just read to me ... of course you know that ... I could see me being this palm tree ... and I could hear the confidence in your voice that I'll be better, that I'll be strong enough to get through the hell my life has been ... Helmet, promise to me, that you'll be to me like the whispering voice of the story, my constant reminder that a better future is waiting ahead of me."

A genuine smile crossed Clay's face. "Of course I will. You know that. I've promised to you to be there for you, to listen and to do whatever it takes for you to heal. There won't be any missed opportunities anymore!"

Slowly Hannah sat up and turned her face to Clay. Ever so gently he took her head in his hands, looking Hannah straight into her shimmering blue eyes. Hesitating for only a single moment he lent forward and gently kissed Hannah. First on her cheeks, then her lips. A kiss, so different from their first kiss at the party. A kiss, so careful, tender and pure. These weren't raw emotions, it was utterly deep and honest affection. It was love.

* * *

 **Author's note:**  
Writing this third and certainly last chapter of my story took me a lot longer than planned. The story Clay reads to Hannah isn't mine, it's a legend that I found in my library - a long time ago I read it to a friend of mine in a similar situation. I only have a German version and couldn't find any in English. So I had to translate this very poetic text into English which was pretty hard for me. Besides, family and job kept me pretty busy. So enjoy the final chapter and the happy ending!


End file.
